


The Escort

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [21]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When the team is called upon to provide shelter for a young man escorting three children out of Germany, tension mounts and relationships are increasingly strained.





	The Escort

"We don't have the facilities to take care of kids, Kinch!" Hogan said in rich exasperation.

"I know that, Colonel, but they're here, with their escort, and the plane coming to pick them up won't be here for another twenty four hours. The Underground leader, Rene, handed them off to me when I delivered those supplies; what was I supposed to do, leave them in the woods??" Kinch asked.

Hogan growled. "And just what are a couple of American kids doing running around in Germany anyway," he asked, not really expecting a reply.

"Beats me. Maybe their escort will tell you; that's a Joss Larrabee, young guy, mid twenties maybe. He'll be along in a few minutes, he's getting the kids unwrapped. And it's three kids, two little, one bigger." 

Hogan just shook his head and went back into his office, muttering. This was not a good day; hell, it wasn't even a good week. Klink was being obstinate over what Hogan was trying to manipulate him into doing, London had cancelled that last shipment of supplies due to the weather, Newkirk had backed off grabbing that briefcase at the Hauserhof. Sure he'd had what sounded like a good reason, but he was getting a little tired of the guys deciding what was and what wasn't worth the risk; that was his job, damn it!

And to top it off, Newkirk had also skipped on the opportunity for some 'quiet time' together; MAYBE he hadn't seen the look, the signal from Hogan, but somehow Hogan just didn't think so, figuring the lanky Englishman was still put out about what had happened that last time. Well, maybe Hogan HAD been a little overwrought; it'd been a rough mission and he'd never thought Newkirk would act like such a 'fragile flower', {"I mean, really!!"} Instead, the stubborn Englishman had settled down to playing gin with Carter and LeBeau. Yeah, Newkirk was in Hogan's black books right now! 

At least they didn't have to worry so much about the guards for right now. Luckily it was snowing like crazy; the barracks were on lockdown so that the number of guards having to walk around in the bitter cold were kept to a minimum. Kinch had had to batter the tree trunk entrance to get the top unfrozen; for a bit, he was worried it wasn't going to release, but down below the guys had heard him, and helped along by a little battering on their part, it finally gave way and he was able to pass the four visitors down the ladder to the hands waiting below. To say they were shocked was an understatement; they'd not been expecting anyone to be with Kinch.

Now, one man, one boy maybe around twelve, and two little kids, one boy, one girl, maybe seven or eight crowded into one of the side rooms of the tunnel complex. LeBeau scurried to get their snow covered coats off, Carter grabbed blankets to wrap around them, the escort and the older boy worked with the younger ones' soaked shoes and socks, pulling on the wildly oversized replacement socks handed to him. Only after they were taken care of did they remove their own wet garb and get dried off. Thanking the guys, the man chevied the other three along, sending them up the ladder.

Newkirk had a cup of coffee for the man, but was at a loss what to do for the kids; the older boy smiled and assured him he'd be glad of coffee as well.

"And these two, if you can heat some water, and drop one of these into the cups, that'll satisfy them," he said, opening a tin he pulled out of a pocket, handing Newkirk two small objects the size of small marbles. Raising his eyebrows at the unfamiliar sight, the Englishman complied, and with a hiss, the bundles disappeared in froth and the rising scent of sweet lemon.

"Blimey, that does smell nice, now don't it," he said comfortingly, with a wide smile that was echoed in his eyes, handing one cup to each of the children. "Careful now, tikes, that's 'ot, it is." 

"Larrabee? You want to tell me what's going on?" came from the doorway, Hogan lounging against the frame, an impatient look on his face. The dark haired bronze skinned young man looked at him, nodded, "and you'd be?"

"Colonel Robert Hogan, US Air Force, and you didn't answer my question."

A slight smile, accompanied by a measuring look, "I'm escorting this lot back home."

"From where and why?"

Larabee took a sip from his cup, "they were taking a special term at a school in Switzerland. Seems some high muckety muck had his kids there too, bout the same ages of this lot. Storm trooper types, some nasty chap in one of those fancy black uniforms in charge, showed up to 'take them home'; school was in a bit of an uproar since they'd not heard anything of the sort from the parents, but, well, ended up having to give way since they couldn't LOCATE the parents to confirm, and then there was the matter of all those guns. Somehow . . ." looking at the three kids, shaking his head in wry amusement mixed with somewhat reluctant approval, "they ended up with these three instead of the three they came after. A team was sent to retrieve these budding heroes, another team to snaffle the three the Gestapo had come for. The other three are on their way to London; we were delayed, the rest of the team is covering our tracks. They'll make their own way home; transport will be coming for us by this time tomorrow. The Underground felt this would be the safest place for us to wait it out."

Hogan looked at the three children, "budding heroes?"

"We're not heroes," came from the smaller boy, "but Liesl, and Markus, and Gunter are our friends! We couldn't just let those black boots take them! So we switched name tags and ID photos. And I don't know that they needed to send a team after us either; we could have gotten away just fine on our own, I bet!" to the increasingly bemused stares of Hogan and his crew.

Larrabee tried to hide a grin, "yes, possibly you could have, but you know, we get out of practice if we don't run a little caper like this every once in a while, so it's just as well you let us play a part too. And you know we had to send a team after Liesl and the other two, and it just seemed sensible to use the plane to full advantage."

Hogan now wasn't sure who was going mad, him or this guy agreeing that these three kids could have escaped the Gestapo and gotten home on their own. The older boy was trying to hide a smile, not too successfully, watching the younger two.

LeBeau stepped in, "and I am sure you would have done wonderfully! By the way, I am Louie LeBeau, and that is Kinch, well, it is James Kinchloe, but we call him Kinch, and Andrew Carter, and Peter Newkirk, and that over there, he is Colonel Hogan, of course. And you are?" all with a charming smile.

The older boy spoke for the first time, "this is Calais," nodding toward the small girl, "this is Devon", indicating the boy, "I'm Cayman. He's Joss," nodding at the man. "Yes, I know, damned silly names, but our parents had a fancy for traveling, and insisted on naming each of us after the place we were born. You should hear what some of the others ended up with, though; we came off lucky!" with a snort. He shot a questioning look at Joss, a slight cocking of his head in Newkirk's direction, to get a grin and slight nod in return. The boy developed a rather nice grin on his own face at that.

Hogan just shook his head and motioned Kinch down into the tunnel, followed by Larrabee at Hogan's request. "We need to let London know what's going on. Who do we tell them to report to about you being here? Or do they already know where you were headed?"

The very casual, "doubt London has a clue about us; no reason we'd involve that lot in what we were doing," receiving another one of those 'you've got to be kidding!' looks from both Hogan and Kinch. Hogan had Kinch try to reach the sub, but it appeared it was out of reach.

"Well, we can try later; in the meantime, try to keep them out of our hair!" Larrabee just gave him a look, not even bothering to reply.

It had gone amazingly well; although they kept a lookout, of course, the guards were taking full advantage of the weather and the lockdown and were not venturing out. The barracks were left alone. In Barracks 2, the guys had taken turns entertaining, and being entertained by the smaller kids. Carter had told stories about the Dakota Badlands and the Indian tribes, LeBeau had told them about him and his cousins growing up and his dream of owning his own restaurant "with the most wonderful food!", Kinch had played a rousing game of marbles and Go Fish with them, and told a couple of stories of his own.

Now two small giggling children were perched on the edge of Newkirk's bunk while he showed them card tricks, pulled coins out of their ears, and started teaching them how to pick a pocket. The older boy had stayed a bit to himself, talking sometimes, watching, listening, but not really joining in much, though he was the one who'd lifted the youngsters up onto Newkirk's bunk when the Englishman, perched up there with a cigarette, had offered to visit with them for a bit, telling them "now stay there til I lift you down or he does," nodding at Newkirk with a smile.

Larrabee was down in the tunnel, getting their clothes organized for the trip home, Hogan pressing him for details of what had REALLY happened at the school and afterwards. With a shrug, "they were worried for their friends; the other kids were scared stiff, seems their parents had sent them there just because they were anticipating some trouble on their OWN end, so our younger two changed places with theirs; when Cayman realized it, he followed suit, thinking to try and keep them safe. Believe me, we didn't put them up to it, didn't know anything about it til the school called us in a panic once they realized ours were off and gone; they knew better than to delay on that! Then we jumped on it, got the other kids out; tracked the goons and got there just before our lot made their move. You know, it just might have worked at that!" he chuckled. "They had it planned out well, it had a good chance, you know," grinning at the look on Hogan's face.

Hogan just shook his head, turned and went back down the tunnel, to the ladder and back into the Barracks. He was more than a little pissed at all of this; he was sure he was being fed a pack of lies and didn't trust Larrabee as far as he could throw him. Maybe that accounted for his next, perhaps unwise move, because nothing else seemed to explain it. Well, maybe he'd been a little miffled at how well the guys were taking, even seeming to enjoy this youthful invasion, when he was so annoyed by it. And he was STILL pissed at Newkirk. Still if he'd just given it a bit more thought, maybe . . .

At the top of the ladder he stopped and looked around. The guys were spread out around the room, LeBeau talking about training dogs with the older boy at the table, who was saying that his uncle bred and trained scent and sight hounds, Kinch and Carter sitting on their bunks, but listening. Newkirk was up in his bunk playing host to the two young ones, all now sitting crosslegged, him with his back to the wall, one on each side facing him, wide smile on his face alternating with a mock frown, teasing them, showing them tricks, them chattering back at him.

Hogan's jaw tightened, but his voice had a forced friendly tone, "all right, you two, down from there. Come on, you can spend some time with me in my office, stop bothering Newkirk. It's probably not safe up there for you, anyway," getting a puzzled look from the guys, particularly from Newkirk.

"I'll not let them tumble off, Gov".

"Yeah, well . . . I still think they'd be SAFER somewhere other than in your bunk," with a particularly nasty smirk, and all talk ceased in the room, heads raised in disbelief.

Newkirk went dead pale, his eyes wide and his mouth tightening. "Now see 'ere, Gov . . .!"

"Pipe down, Corporal! And you two, get down here, march!" The two scrambled down, Newkirk after them in a second in protest. 

They'd just gotten to the door of his office, Newkirk only two steps behind, Hogan reaching for the knob to shoo them in, Newkirk reaching for his shoulder, when the older boy, Cayman, was on his feet. "Stop right there, Colonel! Calais, Devon, get yourselves back over here! You've been taught better than that!"

Hogan turned and frowned at the boy, receiving an icy glare in return. "Look, boy . . ."

"I am looking, Colonel, are you?" and Hogan realized he had a small silenced pistol pointed at him.

"Are you kidding me? What do you think you're going to do with that??!" and he started to step forward, only to stop with a jerk at the soft pfft and stared in disbelief at the small hole in the floor between his feet. Everyone went dead still. 

Larrabee had just come through the trap door, "Cayman?"

The boy jerked his chin at Hogan, "HE decided they weren't 'safe' up in the bunk with Newkirk; thought they'd be 'better off' in his office with him."

Hogan exploded, "you let him carry a gun?; did you see what he did? If that hadn't been silenced, we'd have every Kraut in the place in here. Just damn lucky he missed!"

Larrabee looked at the hole in the floor and frowned, "Cayman, you missed?? That's not like you! Is there something wrong with your revolver? Where were you aiming?? Or was that a warning shot?"

Somehow, from the expression on his face, that was not the reaction Hogan was expecting from the man!

"Well, of course it was a warning shot, Joss, I still have my eyesight, you know!" came the offended reply, complete with a roll of his eyes.

"Why just there?" Larrabee asked, as if it was a test question, and it probably was.

The boy responded with a shrug, "logical spot, less likely for the Krauts to spot a hole in the floor than the wall or the door once you scrub some dirt into it, gets the attention, and I could use that one to get the range and position, that way," with an exceedingly cold smile, "if I had to shoot again, all I had to deal with was adjusting the elevation," and all eyes went to the hole in the floor between Hogan's feet and moved upwards. They each gulped and found themselves drawing up just a bit.

Only Larrabee seemed unaffected. He nodded, "very good," he said, and Hogan came close to shouting, "very good?? That's all you have to say?"

"Oh, not at all. I have a lot more to say."

He motioned with two fingers to the two younger children, and they obediently came to stand in front of him. "You were with Newkirk, in his bunk," he stated as a flat fact, staring down at them, and everyone saw the Englishman stiffen again, now flushed, outrage and resentment pouring from him unspoken, hurt buried just underneath, something he'd deny, didn't want to show, but still evident to the observant eye. The two children nodded.

"Did Cayman object to that?" receiving their solemn headshakes, and a quick, "no, he lifted us up there."

"Do you know why he didn't object? Why he sat you up there?"

"Because he knew we'd be safe there," came a small voice.

"Because he knew you'd be safe there. Just as I would have known you'd be safe," giving a quick glance at Newkirk, seeing him staring back, starting to relax just a tiny bit from that too tense position. "Newkirk wouldn't have let you come to any harm up there. Why did you get down?"

Upon being told they were ordered to by Hogan because he'd said they'd be safer elsewhere than in Newkirk's bunk, he squatted down in front of them, "and since when do you do what you are ordered to do by a stranger, especially going off with one, one we haven't indicated was safe, taking yourselves OUT of the protection of one you knew WAS safe? Do I have to repeat your lessons from when you were little kids? You going to go off with anyone who offers a bright bit of glittery, wants you to help find their lost puppy, maybe has a nice piece of candy for you?"

They became indignant, the girl answering for the both of them, "oh, Joss, you know we wouldn't do that. We know far better." 

He didn't say anything, just raised one brow, looked at them til they lowered their gaze, shifting their feet, then looking back at him, understanding now filling their faces that they'd just done pretty much that.

"And what did you say when the good Colonel told you that, about being safer elsewhere?"

Quiet, then shamefaced, the boy muttered, "nothing, we didn't say anything," giving Newkirk a quick unreadable glance.

The girl looked at him too, "we didn't say anything," her eyes now seeming to ask forgiveness, though he couldn't imagine what for.

"And did Newkirk object to your leaving, try to stop you?" and they looked at each other, admitting, "well, yes."

"And I gather you didn't listen to him." He heaved a deep sigh. "I think there are some apologies owed around here," he said, sternly, looking around the room, taking in everyone, their tight intense faces. In the silence that followed, Newkirk opened his mouth, though not really knowing what he'd say, what he was expected to say, what he was apologizing for, only to receive a slight frown from Joss Larrabee, along with a tiny headshake.

"Yes, sir," came from the two children then. 

They conferred for a moment in whispers, then together they turned to Newkirk and made apologies for leaving his protection, for not stopping when he objected. Then, to his shock and embarrassment, certainly to the shock of his team mates, they apologized for not challenging Hogan, not standing up for him; he hadn't realized they'd understood, had hoped they hadn't understood any of that! Now they were apologizing for not defending him from that implied slander! They turned to Cayman, apologizing for not listening to his instructions, spoken and unspoken. They apologized to Larrabee for forgetting their training to such an extent. "We should have done better," came the admission from the girl. "We WILL do better," came the promise from the boy. 

Hogan stood waiting to get his apology from the boy for shooting at him, only to see all four of the visitors waiting, it seemed, for something from him.

"And he doesn't apologize for shooting at me?" Hogan finally asked.

A muffled hmmmppph came from the older boy, along with an almost inaudible 'when pigs fly!', and a quiet "hardly, Colonel. He was protecting them, as was his responsibility. Cayman knew the kids were safe with Newkirk."

He smiled at the tall Englishman, jerking his chin at him "he has wandering hands, to be sure," and Peter groaned, not sure that helped matters a bit, and wondering why the other man would even think to say that, how he'd know that, "but he's known to be quite particular about where he lets them wander; he doesn't meddle with anyone underaged or anyone unwilling, and he sure as hell doesn't meddle with kids. Him, we trust. You, Colonel," and an offhand shrug only added to the offense of his next words, "well, I'm not sure I'd trust you with my sister's Pekinese!" A stunned silence again filled the room. 

Hogan turned, stepped into his quarters and slammed the door so hard Kinch thought they were lucky the roof was still standing. "That really wasn't fair, you know," he commented. "I can't see the Colonel harming either of them."

"Perhaps not, Sergeant, but they're my brother and sister, my responsibility, well, mine and Cayman's, and he broke their discipline, countermanded our instructions, and that precident alone endangered them. They needed to know that was wrong. He did that in a way to try and cast doubt on someone we'd told them was safe, someone we respect and value. They needed to know that wasn't acceptable either. And when that happened, and caused hurt, they didn't step in and say anything; that was wrong and they know better. And frankly, he has been known to put his hands where they aren't welcome, where he knew they wouldn't be welcome."

Kinch considered all that, and really wondered where Joss got his information about Newkirk AND about Hogan, but felt he had to ask, "aren't you expecting a lot from them, at their age? Yeah, I see the obeying your orders, that much, but for them to be expected to take the Colonel to task for what he said," he flushed, "what he suggested? A grownup, an officer? I mean, they're just kids!"

Joss looked at him, then looked at Cayman, "do you want to answer that?"

Cayman looked at Kinch and asked a question in return. "Kinch, at what age do you expect someone to start behaving with honor, to start to live up to what they've been taught, what will be expected of them as adults? Do you say, at seven, no he doesn't need to think about that but at eight, he does? Or is it twelve, or sixteen, or twenty? Just when? And then, what, they just flip a switch and all of a sudden, they've got it down pat? We're taught all that very early because it's expected it'll take time to get it thoroughly engrained, but we are supposed to try, to improve with each opportunity, each experience. You saw their faces when Joss asked them about it all; they knew they'd fallen short of the mark, that they had to make amends, to do better. Well, next time, they'll remember, and they WILL do better, and then better still. But you don't meet that goal by overlooking, ignoring the failures; you acknowledge them, use them to build toward success."

Joss nodded approvingly, "You see, Kinch. We expect a lot, yes," and looking at his brothers and sister, "but then they are capable of a lot."

He went and poured himself a half cup of coffee, stood sipping it, then turned to Newkirk, who was still in a bit of a state of shock, with a knowing smile. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as we can be." Looking at his watch, "in fact, we need to get started in about an hour; can someone direct us to the landing site," giving the coordinates.

"We can lead you out," he was offered by Carter and Newkirk, and he smiled his acceptance.

"Thanks. And, I hope this doesn't cause you any more problems; we really didn't intend to drop in on you this way, stirring the pot."

Newkirk had been considering him, thinking, unable to figure out just the connection, though there had to be one from all that he'd said. "Do I know you??!"

The same question had occurred to each of his team mates, but if there was any 'knowing', it all seemed one sided, their Englishman seemed just as confused as they were. And a small laugh came from Joss and from Cayman, and the two brothers grinned at each other.

"Oh, I've known of you for a long time, and Cayman, he's grown up on stories about Peter Newkirk and the East End and Maudie's Pub!" He wiggled his eyebrows, and threw in a wicked smirk for good measure, "including some you'd probably pay us not to tell!"

Newkirk's eyes had widened, his jaw dropped, "what??!"

The boy chuckled, "well, it's only to be expected, you know; the girls, some of the guys you taught are all older than I am, but we all spent a lot of time together. Caeide taught me to pick my first pocket and how to open a safe, all from your teachings; Meghada taught me how to work the cards, just like you taught her; the others you taught, they gave me some pointers too. I'd love to sit down to a serious game with you sometime! Not to mention, because of you, the term 'going all pear-shaped' is part of the family vocabulary now!"

Joss Larrabee explained, "Caeide and Meghada's father, he's our uncle, our mother's brother. Our father is Clan related a couple of generations back. We're not Clan blood totally, not recognizably anyway, not a red head in our bunch, but we are Clan raised and trained. And our cousins, the rest of the family, well, they think a lot of you, you know. As for Hogan, well, we've heard a bit about him as well, from the sisters and a cousin or two, and from Craig Garrison's crew, them being pretty much family too." And Andrew thought a few thoughts to himself, but didn't bother explaining the quiet little snicker that escaped him.

They were guided out, the plane landed, they were in, off and gone. Newkirk and Carter had watched and then hurried back to camp.

"How long before he gets over his hissy fit, do you think?"

"Don't know, Andrew. It's 'ard to say; they seem to come easier and stay longer any more. Nothing we can do about it anyway," he said with a shake of his head.

Conversation was a bit stiff for the next day or so, but the subject, indeed the entire visit, was left untouched, and it was back to business as usual. Except for that one little bit by Carter, as he and Newkirk sat on that short bench, taking in the sun and sharing a cigarette. "When I run into Joss again, think I can get him to tell me some of those stories he was talking about?" with a wickedly sly grin at his friend.

"Ain't no way, Andrew, don't even think about it!" came the quick response, while Peter was trying to figure how much he'd have to cough up to avoid just that little thing.


End file.
